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Wilson approached Dune while he stared at his handiwork. “Can I ask you a question?”
“Of course,” Dune said.
“What are you going to do if she leaves?”
Dune sighed. “Then, I’ll let her go. She had a life before she came here. I won’t ask her to give it up. As much as I want her to stay, Caroline needs to stay because she wants to, not because of me.”
Wilson patted Dune on his shoulder. “You should go shower. You stink.”
Dune pushed his friend away and muttered some obscenities as he left the boat. With his personal boat docked at his parents, he jogged down the street to the parking lot where he kept his Bronco. He hopped in and screeched as the back of his legs burned from the hot leather seats.
“Son of a bitch,” he said through gritted teeth. He knew better than to just jump into his truck, especially after it sat in the sun for multiple days. He looked around the cab and groaned. Someone had tossed their garbage into his truck. This was the drawback of leaving his Bronco parked with the top off for days on end. Of course, most everyone knew this was his and they would never do anything of the sort. Tourists, however, they were a whole other story.
Dune drove home. What normally took him ten or fifteen minutes, took him almost thirty due to traffic. He never cared about traffic until he had somewhere to be, and even though he didn’t have a date with Caroline, he couldn’t help but feel rushed and late. The fear was there that he’d get to the cottage later and she’d be gone. While he tried not to have those thoughts, they lingered. She had no reason to stay, and as far as she was concerned, he lied to her.
He hated that she felt that way.
After he showered and shaved, he stood naked in front of his closet and stared at his clothes. He had shorts and more shorts. The one pair of slacks he had were dirty, as were the khaki pants he owned. The jeans he had bore holes, which could be fashionable in some cases, but not what should be a romantic night.
“Fuck it,” he said as he reached for a pair of shorts. They weren’t gym shorts or ones he wore while working and he figured if he paired them with a nice dress shirt, he’d look somewhat presentable. Besides, if Caroline was going to love him, she would love him for him. Not for what he wore.
After he dressed, he stood in front of the mirror. He was in desperate need of a haircut, but that would have to wait until next week. He ran some gel through the strands and tried to calm his locks. Each strand had a mind of its own, though, and went every which way.
Dune brushed his teeth, sprayed his cologne, and gave himself a pep talk as he walked out of his house to his truck, and quickly turned around and headed toward the dock at his parent’s house. He’d make it back to town faster by boat than by driving.
Sometime over the past twenty-four hours, someone had moved his boat and tied it up to the dock. Dune jumped on, started the motor, and pulled the ties. Thankfully, the only other boat in the area was his brother’s, which was on the other side of Dune’s. He had plenty of room to back away from the dock and get out into the open water.
The speed did nothing for Dune’s hair regardless of the amount of gel he’d put in it, and he couldn’t even begin to imagine what he looked like when he pulled into the harbor. He was certain he looked like a mess and probably had an errant fish or seaweed sticking out from his mane. He slowed the boat and eventually pulled into his slip. After shutting everything down and securing his vessel, he ran down the dock to his parent’s yacht and into the bathroom. Dune did his best to tame his unruly locks. The ride on the pontoon boat wouldn’t be so bad.
Back outside, he went to the party barge and stepped on the platform. Sitting on the bench was a dozen red roses and a bottle of champagne. “Wilson,” Dune said under his breath. Between the two of them, they thought of everything.
Dune turned the lights on, started the motor, and hooked his phone up to the speaker for some music. He turned on the candles, organized them the way he thought they should be, and made sure the charcuterie board was on the counter. He made his way out of the bay and toward Caroline’s cottage praying she was there. Dune tried not to think of how he’d feel if she wasn’t. He was already on edge with a broken heart, he couldn’t imagine what the pain would be like to find she was gone.
